


Stomach It

by vamp_apologist



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Accidental Pregnancy, Accidental Therapy, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Attempted Murder, Cannibalism, Dead Family, Dead sister, Death, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Falling In Love, Kidnapping, Marriage, Medical Inaccuracies, Murder, NSFW, Non-Canon Relationship, Older Man/Younger Woman, Panic Attacks, Possessive Hannibal Lecter, Protective Hannibal Lecter, Romance, Serial Killers, Serious Injuries, Stabbing, Unsafe Sex, Violence, age gap
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:28:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26231185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vamp_apologist/pseuds/vamp_apologist
Summary: May Hawk wants nothing to do with field work. She's not like Will Graham, though they share the burden of an empathy disorder - May has no desire to leave the comfort of teaching and isn't easily persuaded. Grisly murders are popping up, though, and May is connected in a way she can neither deny nor refuse.When the killer realizes he has her attention, May is kidnapped and nearly murdered. Now unsafe and unable to care for herself, she has no option but to follow Jack Crawford's orders and stay with the unsettling Hannibal Lecter. Will she catch his love or his hunger? Either way, she's bound to lose her heart...
Relationships: Alana Bloom/Hannibal Lecter, Alana Bloom/Original Female Character(s), Hannibal Lecter/Original Female Character(s), Hannibal/Original Female Character(s), Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 25
Kudos: 136





	1. Can you feel it crush you?

**Author's Note:**

> This is heavily inspired by ladyshade83's story The Baltimore Butcher, which I've linked below. I really suggest reading that fic, it's very good!
> 
> This is just pure inaccurate trash to satisfy my inner attraction to Hannibal Lecter. The medical aspects won't be accurate, and this is basically a semi-slow-burn porn with a plot. Enjoy!
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/25813138/chapters/62703691

May Hawk knew her day was about to go downhill when she saw Jack Crawford standing in the doorway of her lecture hall, arms crossed and a shadow over his face. The man was always an ill omen. Her right eye twitched when her gaze rested on his hulking figure, but she didn't acknowledge him until she was finished teaching and her students were filing out of the room.

"I expect everyone to have the first twenty pages of their research papers prepped and ready to be edited next session!" She called out as the lecture hall slowly emptied. 

"Have a nice week, Miss Hawk," several of the students said kindly, and May responded with smiles for each of them. Her gaze went back to Jack Crawford, though, and her smile dropped.

"Agent Crawford," she said tensely. "I can only assume you're here in an attempt to get me out into the field," her lip curled slightly. "Again." May looked down at her desk, hands gathering her paperwork and stuffing them into her black messenger bag. 

Jack's hand covered one of her own, stopping her. May looked up at him and felt a shiver of fear at the look in his eyes. Sorrow, sympathy. Two things that were never a good combination. She steeled herself for whatever grisly murder scene he was about to describe.

"May," Jack said softly. "There's no avoiding this one. We should talk in my office. There's someone waiting there that I want you to meet." His hand disappeared from hers, and she finished shoving her items messily into her bag.

The look on Jack's face left no room for argument. Truthfully, May was tired of arguing with him. It felt like every few weeks, Jack showed up in her lecture hall, begging for her help in catching another serial killer. It irked her to no end: Will Graham was much more easily convinced and frankly, much better at the job. May didn't want to be involved in anything to do with killers.

Cold winter air bit at May's face, swirling her dark, curly hair around her face. She hurriedly followed Jack across Quantico's snow-covered campus, thoughts wandering to whoever she might find in special agent's office. 

Distaste filled May's mouth as she came up the stairs to find Hannibal Lecter standing outside Jack's office, winter coat draped across his arm. His muted plaid suits and immaculate appearance always left May feeling uncomfortable when she'd seen him from a distance, talking to will or flirtatiously interacting with Alana. Jack unlocked the door, ushering the two inside.

"May Hawk, I want you to meet Dr. Hannibal Lecter," Jack smiled tightly, sitting down behind the large mahogany desk.

Dr. Lecter smiled and held out his hand. "It's lovely to meet you, Miss Hawk. I've heard quite a bit about you these past several years," he said. May had never heard him speak before, and found herself struggling to place his accent.

Instead, she just stared at his outstretched hand. "I don't like touching people," she said bluntly, neck tilting backwards so her gaze could meet his. "I've heard just as much about you, I'm sure." May sat down in one of the chairs with a huff, throwing Jack a glare. "So, you're not only going to try and force me to work in the field, but you're making me talk to a shrink? Your skills of persuasion have seriously declined since the last time we spoke."

"You just might need a psychiatrist after I tell you what I need you to hear," Jack told her. His voice was solemn. "May, this isn't the time for sarcasm or jokes." 

May scoffed at that. "It's my coping mechanism, Crawford."

She could feel Dr. Lecter's hazel eyes on her, but she didn't meet them. Jack sighed before rolling his chair back and producing a file from his desk. He held it out to her, jerking it just out of May's reach when she moved to take it. Her gaze hardened. "This will be upsetting. Prepare yourself accordingly," Jack warned.

Upsetting was something May could handle. She snatched the file out of Jack's hand, her irritation growing as Dr. Lecter's gaze remained unwavering, and pulled out the photos.

It felt as though winter had smashed through the room and shoved itself under her skin. The photos were grisly. A man, woman, and young girl lay in an unfinished rectangle, their limbs contorted into impossible positions. Their faces had been taken from them, artfully carved off and placed next to each victim, features made unrecognizable with whatever blade the killer had used.

That wasn't the problem, though. May's heart quickened as she stared at the photos, vision blurring at the edges. For a moment, she closed them. When she opened them again, they revealed her fury, all of it directed at the two men in the room with her.

"What the _fuck_ is this, Jack?" She snarled, standing and tossing the file onto the desk. "Is this some kind of sick joke? Who did this?" Her rage was nearly palpable, crackling through her bones as she slammed both of her hands down onto the wood. " _You_ said he wouldn't kill again," her voice broke slightly.

"Sit down, May," Dr. Lecter said softly, drawing her attention to him.

"You knew he was going to show me this, and you didn't even warn me," May spat in his direction, still not meeting his eyes. "Alana can think the world of you for all I care, but so far, you're not impressive."

"None of this is Dr. Lecter's fault, May," Jack said. He sighed. "Everything about this crime scene indicates that this is the same killer who butchered your family," Jack's face was emotionless. 

"He didn't butcher them, Jack, and you know it," she told him. "This is an expression of his anger. This isn't someone else's family, it's his," May whispered. "They represent his family, and their rejection of his appearance. Maybe of his unsettling tendencies. He's angry with them, so he takes their faces."

________________________________

May sat in her car until it was dark, the images flying through her mind on repeat. The only relief was the occasional flash of hazel eyes as she drove home, numbness settling into her bones.


	2. Does it seem to bring the worst in you out?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I have a habit of starting fics and then not finishing them. I promise, I'll make my way back around to my others. I tend to hyperfixate for a week or two, consume all media pertaining to said hyperfixation, and then move on immediately. I've decided to savor the Hannibal series, though, and this one absolutely will be finished over the next few months!

May had had a headache for two days now.

She hadn't slept much since she'd looked at those photos. Anxiety had shriveled her veins and iced out her lungs, and her nights were spent tossing about, wondering - did he know where she was? Did he know _who_ she was?

'He' being the killer, of course.

As May watched Jimmy and Brain flit about the bodies, describing each intricacy of the murders, she wanted nothing more than to vomit. The lab was cold enough to slow decomposition, and she decided she would blame her light tremors on the temperature should anyone ask. Behind her stood Jack and Dr. Lecter - one with his eyes on the bodies before them, the other with his eyes boring holes into the side of May's head.

"It's him, Jack," she said softly. "There's no doubt about it." Tired of staring at the three lifeless husks in front of her, May whirled around to face the man. "You can't let him find me."

Jack put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "He won't, May. We'll make sure of it."

She shrugged his hand off, disliking the pressure, but more so afraid he would recognize just how afraid she actually was. Panic threatened to spill from her, the rising tide barely held back by the dam-like walls she had built in her mind. "I changed my name and moved across the country. Now he's popped up in the city I live. He knows something, Jack, and he's going to come for me," May said, her voice only wavering slightly at the end. Jack gave no indication he'd noticed, but May knew Dr. Lecter had. 

"Is that why he's doing this? To find you?" Dr. Lecter asked, breaking his silence for the first time since his silent greeting when they'd all arrived at the FBI lab. May's eyes darted to his face, which remained nearly expressionless. Nearly. Something about the way he held his mouth had May convinced he found this amusing.

"He's doing this because he's angry, Dr. Lecter. The ten-year anniversary of my family's murder is fast approaching," May turned back to the bodies, breaking their eye contact. "He's smart. He knows I've changed my name, moved far away." She closed her eyes, furiously rubbing her temples as her brain throbbed inside its cage. "I haven't kept a low enough profile. He's reliving his pain, and he wants me to relive it with him."

"I know only the barest of details about this case, Miss Hawk," Dr. Lecter said. "What pain is he reliving?"

May's eyes shot open again, hands falling away from her face. She stared at them, wondering when she'd last gotten them done. Her mind struggled, wanting to think about the mundane things in her life, but May pushed back. This wasn't going away until she _made_ it go away. "When he..." she swallowed audibly. "When he had me trapped, he told me that he couldn't trust them anymore. They were hurting him, always, and they wanted him to hurt his little sister. He thought my family was the same. That...we are the same." Her fingers gripped the lace hem of her dark shirt. "The passing of a decade is significant."

_________________

"He's going to kill again, you know," Dr. Lecter called out, trailing behind May as she exited the building. They'd spent many excruciating hours combing through every detail of her family's murder, and May was exhausted. 

"I'm aware of that, Dr. Lecter. I'm smarter than I look," she said dryly, stopping to rummage through her bag for her car keys. She wished she'd thought about finding them before she'd stepped out into the brisk winter evening. 

Dr. Lecter stopped beside her, smiling slightly. "I'm well aware of that, Miss Hawk. You're young, but accomplished. A master's degree in criminal psychology, a tenured position teaching FBI recruits, and close relationships with very important people." May stopped her rummaging to make direct eye contact, hoping she looked disinterested but aware that she probably looked more like a tiny, angry bee than anything else.

"You've done your research, congratulations," she sighed. "My twenty-seven years have felt like ten lifetimes. All of this," she gestured to the building containing the lab and morgue, "Has aged me even more." May wondered if the exhaustion was recognizable in her face. Looking at Dr. Lecter, she wondered if he ever felt exhausted. A small part of her was jealous of his continuously immaculate appearance. Hannibal Lecter didn't seem like a man who lost much sleep to the trauma of his past. 

This time, it was Dr. Lecter who placed his large hand on May's shoulder and lightly squeezed. The action was shocking enough that she didn't process it in time to shrug him off before he'd already taken it back, folding his hands together in front of himself. "These are unfortunate circumstances. Please know that I will help in whatever way I can." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "You and Dr. Bloom share a close bond, but there's no shame in seeking the analysis of a stranger." 

That brought a scoff out of May. "I respect your work, Dr. Lecter, but I don't need anyone rummaging through my head. It's darker in there than I'd like to explore. Alana doesn't need to be involved, and honestly, neither do you." May side-eyed him for a moment. "I don't quite understand Jack's intentions in bringing you into this. I like him, but I don't trust him. I don't trust you, either," she added, though less audibly than the rest of her words.

"I don't expect your trust, Miss Hawk, nor your respect. Those are things to be earned through forming a relationship." He was still looking at her, and she shifted uncomfortably, snow crunching beneath her feet. "Though it seems to me that you find difficulty doing that. Alana has been a close friend of yours for many years now. She's sang your praises endlessly since I began mentoring her."

"Alana is one of the few people that just won't let me shake her," May said. Her eyes widened as she realized what he was doing, and she faced him angrily. "Don't do that. Don't psychoanalyze me," she nearly spat. "I'm not your patient and I have no intention of changing that."

Her legs carried her away swiftly, keys wrapped tightly in her fingers. May didn't remember finding them. Her headache was nearly blinding now, as blinding as her rage, and she didn't notice the silhouette of a man watching her from a distance.


	3. There's no running away

Hannibal Lecter was right. The killer did, in fact, kill again. 

Yellow tape surrounded the scene, which was littered with investigators. Local police stood on the outskirts, dissuading reporters and the general public from getting too close. May could only stare in horror at what lay before her. 

A mother, a father, and their young daughter lay, again, in an incomplete rectangle at the base of the enormous tree. Their faces, much like previous victims, had also been peeled off their flesh and mauled beyond recognition. Light-colored clothes splattered in blood covered them. 

That wasn't the worst of it, though. May's eyes were fixated on what was _in_ the tree. A girl who looked like May's younger self, with her eyes and mouth sewn shut. The rest of the girl remained clean and untouched - her long, curly hair looked as though it had been recently washed, and light hints of makeup kept her dead flesh oddly colored. It felt like she was staring at May. 

" _You did this,_ " the girl seemed to whisper. " _This should be you up here._ "

Bile rose in May's throat, but she couldn't turn away. She wouldn't let herself turn away. Not anymore.

A hand on her shoulder broke her trance, and she looked up to see Dr. Lecter standing beside her. When had he arrived? May toyed with the lace sleeves of her coat absentmindedly, wondering how long she'd been staring at the dead girl. Dr. Lecter's eyes held no questions, only an eerie sense of empathy. It seemed out of place and left May feeling more unsettled than usual by his presence. She shrugged her way out of his touch once again, hoping desperately he would say nothing.

Her hopes meant little, it seemed. "Jessica Blake and her family," he said softly. "It sends quite the message."

"And what message is that, exactly?" Jack Crawford's voice startled May into turning around, her back to the crime scene. 

"He's looking for me. Just like I said." May craned her head back around to stare at the sewn eyelids. "This is a warning, a threat. He'll kill more girls like me until he has the real thing."

"We won't let that happen, May," Jack said. His confidence felt too large, too arrogant. May knew what this killer was capable of, and yet Jack seemed determined to ignore the very experience he brought her here to use.

A flash went off, and the trio turned to see a camera pointed at them. The woman holding it stood beside a local police officer, and she was easily recognizable. Freddie Lounds, with her wild red hair and distinctly blue eyes, was taking photographs. Photographs that would place May at the scene. Photographs that would leave her identifiable.

"Jack-" May said, limbs frozen, and the agent immediately began stalking towards the reporter. Freddie smiled at the officer beside her before disappearing into the crowd gathered on the outskirts, photographs intact.

May Hawk knew that within a few hours, she'd be nothing more than a dead girl walking.

_______________________

Three FBI agents were staked outside her home, and May still felt exposed as she scrolled through the Tattle Crime article detailing her and Will Graham's involvement in the FBI. Her stomach churned, and she knew she'd be skipping dinner once again. In truth, May had eaten close to nothing since Jack had brought her onto the case. Everything made her nauseous, and her anxiety was at an all-time high.

Freddie certainly had a way with words. She painted Will as unstable, possibly even dangerous, and her detest for his contributions to catching more than one serial killer was obvious. She was a little kinder towards May, though not by much. May's eyes moved so quickly across the screen they started to throb as she absorbed every word. 

_"May Hawk: Child Prodigy. Despite her young age and even younger appearances, May Hawk has a past that leaves her more qualified than most to find the Skull Flayer. It's been detailed on good authority that Miss Hawk' family was among the first of the Flayer's victims ten years ago. Is he killing again to flush her out? Are these senseless deaths Miss Hawk's fault? It isn't right to assume, but the connections are too easy to miss."_

Lip curled, May snapped the screen of her laptop down. Really? The Skull Flayer? Freddie Lounds was making a serial killer sound like a Marvel super villain. It left an odd taste in May's mouth - a taste reminiscent of dishonesty and dirt.

The ringing of her phone blared suddenly, startling May from her thoughts. The rest of her house was so quiet, the contrast made her ears hurt. Alana's name flashed across her screen, and May answered with a sigh.

"I read the Tattle Crime article. Are you okay?" Alana's voice was tinged with the typical worry May was accustomed to. It seemed Alana was always worried about her, despite her best efforts to induce the least amount of worry from others.

"I'm fine. Did you call Will? He's more likely to be upset by Freddie's shit writing skills than I am," May snorted. It was better if she didn't let Alana know how worried she truly was about the Flayer. She propped her sock-covered feet on her coffee table, leaning back on her dark velvet couch.

"He's with Hannibal, I'm sure they’re going over it." Alana paused. "If you're not going to be honest with me, then you should be with Hannibal. He's the best at what he does. Maybe he can help you," She said the last part softly, and May's anger spiked.

"I don't want him in my head, Alana. I see how he is with Will. I'm not interested in having him root around my brain. I'm better off handling things on my own." May fidgeted, deciding to cross her legs rather than prop them up. They were too short to comfortably reach the coffee table anyways.

"That's the point, May. You shouldn't be handling it on your own. Please, give him a chance," Alana begged. May suddenly felt badly about her harsh tone. 

"I'm sorry, Alana. I'm not comfortable with it. Something about Dr. Lecter is...deeply unsettling to me," she admitted, holding her breath.

Alana let out a deep sigh. May could practically see her rubbing her temples in frustration. "Okay. I won't push it. I just wish you'd trust me about Hannibal."

May smiled tightly, and she and Alana said their goodbyes. For a moment, she just stared at her now dark phone screen blankly, debating whether or not to call Dr. Lecter after all. She brought up his number, finger hovering over the dial button.

Something in the reflection of her screen shifted. She had no time to react before an arm wrapped itself around her neck, a needle shoving itself into the skin at the base of her neck. The dial tone of her phone started up, and everything went black. 


	4. From these things that held you down

May had thought her headache had been bad the last several days, but it paled in comparison to the cavernous ache in her skull now. 

Everything felt muted as she opened her eyes, vision blurred at the edges. She blinked several times, trying to focus, to no avail. May shifted, the clinking of chains bringing her attention to her wrists. They were chained down, and a spark of pain shot through her fingers as she began to realize what was happening. What had already happened.

A metal chair with no padding held her down like a rabbit in a hunter's trap. May didn't bother to struggle. Instead, she tried to look around her, gather in her surroundings. The movement of her head felt sluggish and delayed, and she could feel herself screaming on the inside. No sound escaped her throat, though. Even drugged, May knew better than bring attention to herself. The only thing she was able to process was the presence of a door to her left. It could have led outside, but she couldn't be sure.

"You're awake," came a voice to her left. Her head turned in what felt like slow motion. Her living nightmare was perched on a concrete step, staring at her. Somewhere in the back of May's mind, she knew she should be deathly afraid. Her heartbeat should have quickened, her body should have started trembling. Instead, she was calm. Untouchable.

Vaguely, May realized she was wearing nothing but her undergarments. Her breathing only slightly quickened, but her heartbeat remained steady and slow. Much slower than it should have been. Should that worry her? May fought to keep her head from lolling back.

A hand gripped her face, forcing her to look at the murderer who was now in front of her. "You're wondering where you are, and if I've touched you," he said slowly, staring into May's eyes. It took all her strength to not pass out again and focus on what he was saying. "Well, I'll tell you," he whispered, thumb stroking her cheek. The feeling sickened her, but she couldn't gather the energy to jerk her head away. "You're somewhere no one will find you. And don't worry," he released her face and her head lolled down to her chest, "I haven't touched you. At least, not beyond drugging you."

Relief bloomed somewhere behind the cloud in May's head. Not that it mattered. The fog softened It, but the biggest thought in her mind was that she would never make it out of this dingy room with the man who killed her family.

She opened her mouth to speak, but only a hoarse croak escaped. When was the last time she'd tasted water? Her throat was on fire, completely useless. The man chuckled. "Sorry about that, doll. No talking right now. You just need to listen and watch."

He disappeared behind her, and May looked down at her shackles. They were only attached to the chair with a thin layer of duct tape. She wondered if that was on purpose. Was he testing her? Or was he really that stupid? It didn't matter. She didn't have the strength to stand, much less run. May shook her head, hoping to clear the fog a little more. 

When he appeared in front of her again, May was able to focus more on his features. He wasn't much taller than herself, and he had dark, greasy hair that was shoulder length. Light stubble littered his weak chin, and his nose was short and straight. She desperately tried to lock those details in a box. Maybe she could make it out of here and describe him to Jack. Maybe she could survive this.

A loud bang went off above them. The man looked up, rage crossing his face. "Let's hope that isn't someone interrupting us," he said as he stalked around her chair, and it sounded exactly the same as when he'd cut the face of May's little sister. A chill settled in her bones, the first real feeling she'd had since waking.

A door shut behind her and she heard his footsteps on hollow stairs. Her senses were slowly returning, and there were two doors. May wiggled her fingers. They still hurt, probably from the shackles.

More noise began above, like boots stomping on a wooden floor. People were here. Did they know where May was? The door behind her opened for a moment before closing again, lock sliding into place. The man was kneeling before her now, fingers brushing her skin. For the first time since she'd woken up, May felt fear. He was undoing the tape around her wrists, detaching her from the chair.

May saw her moment.

With all the strength she could muster, she kicked him in his chest and stood. He fell back, and audible _oof_ releasing from his lungs. Her movements were still too slow, too uncontrollable. She stumbled trying to get around him, and he grabbed her ankle, sending her crashing to the floor.

Someone was trying to break the door down. "Help!" May tried to scream, but it was almost inaudible. It hurt. 

"No," the man snarled, dragging her back towards him. "You're mine. You've always been mine. If I can't have you, no one can!" His grip was vice-like, unnatural. May felt the bones in her ankle shift as he squeezed impossibly hard.

She shifted onto her back, trying to kick away, but the moment she saw the kitchen knife in his hand, she knew it was all over. His eyes were crazed as he made an inhuman sound, bringing the knife down on May's chest.

The squelching of her flesh being torn was unreal. She didn't even feel the pain until he'd already yanked the blade from her body, bringing it back down to cut through her stomach, then again on her thigh. Fire spread through her, and she cried out. Blood oozed from the wounds, and May couldn't see anything other than red. 

The door behind them burst open, but it was too late. He was already gone. Someone was yelling, but May couldn't make out the words. Her hands were covered in her own blood.

Someone appeared above her, grabbing at her wounds. May looked up incredulously. "Dr. Lecter," she tried to say, but the words sounded garbled.

Nothing felt real. Was he real? The look in his eyes didn't seem plausible. He almost looked afraid as he grabbed at her, trying to stop the bleeding. "Hush," he whispered, taking off his jacket and expertly shoving strips of fabric onto her. "I've got you, May."

The pain ebbed through her body, but she couldn't make herself care. The cloud hovered behind her eyes even as they started to close once again. "May," Dr. Lecter said, louder this time. "Don't close your eyes, May. Stay with me!" The command was almost enough to keep her from falling back into the darkness.

Almost.


	5. Do they complicate you?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, longer chapter this time around. I'll try to keep them this length instead of short like previous chapters. 
> 
> Thanks for all the kind comments, everyone! It's really awesome to see that I have readers whose first language isn't English. You're all amazing!

Rhythmic beeping gently roused May from what felt like the shittiest nap ever.

Absolutely _everything_ hurt. May resisted opening her eyes for a few extra moments, unwilling to face the reality of being alive. An uncomfortable hospital bed housed her likely broken body, and something warm was holding her hand. Vaguely, she could make out the every day sounds of doctors and nurses bustling about, saving countless other lives. May wondered how many other people in this very hospital were waking up right now, with her.

Part of her was shocked she was waking up at all. The sound of the kitchen knife butchering her played over and over in her mind, drowning out the sound of the heart monitor for a few moments.

Pain burst through her chest when she tried to calm herself with a deep breath. Her eyes shot open as she gasped, waking the person holding her hand. May's vision blurred and the heart monitor began to beep frantically as she struggled to pull in even a normal breath.

Hands suddenly caressed her face and hair, and she realized it was Dr. Lecter in the room with her. "Hush," he said gently, stroking her face softly. His hands dwarfed May, and were soft on her skin. "You have a punctured lung, Miss Hawk. You must calm your breathing to prevent further injury."

May glanced down at herself. She was covered in a typical blue hospital blanket, an I.V. and monitors attached to her hands and arms. The rest of her bodily damage wasn't visible, but she could feel it with each breath. "Water," she croaked, unable to say anymore. Her throat was cracked and dry.

Dr. Lecter nodded, removing his hands, which hadn't previously stopped their light strokes. He grabbed the pitcher of water on the table beside May, pouring a small amount into the solitary glass. Turning back to her, he slowly lifted the glass to her chapped lips. "Slowly," he said, "You can only have a small bit for the moment."

Desperation threatened to consume May as she was allowed only a sip. Her body screamed for more, even as Dr. Lecter gently pulled the water away from her. He remained expressionless as usual. "Forgive me, Miss Hawk," he stood. "I must fetch Agent Crawford and Dr. Goode. They'll be pleased that you're awake."

HIs suit-clad figure disappeared out the door, his footsteps barely audible on the shiny hospital floors. May was left with nothing but the beeping of the heart monitor and the sound of her own ragged breathing. Her head turned to eye the water on the bedside table again. Surely, it couldn't be _that_ bad to take just a few more sips...

Searing pain shot through her left arm when she tried to lift it towards the glass. She'd only managed to lift it an inch or two off the bed, and it flopped down lifelessly. Staring down at the useless limb, May wanted nothing more than to scream in frustration, to shake the walls with her anger.

The reopening of the door to her room interrupted her thoughts, and she glanced up to see Dr. Lecter entering, alongside Jack and another doctor. He went to stand off to the side, while Jack plopped down in the chair next to May, grabbing the hand of her uninjured arm almost ferociously. "It's good to see those eyes focused again, May," he told her earnestly. It was almost as if he cared about her life for a moment.

"Miss Hawk, I'm Dr. Goode. We're all very glad to see you awake," he glanced down at the clipboard he held. "You were in pretty bad shape when they brought you in. You wouldn't have made it if Dr. Lecter hadn't been on the scene immediately." Dr. Goode looked up and smiled that fake smile, like a customer service representative. It didn't make May feel any better.

Dr. Lecter shook his head. "The drugs your kidnapper gave you are what saved your life, May. Your heartbeat was almost nonexistent," his eyes flicked to the screen of the heart monitor. "It's what kept you from bleeding out."

Dr. Goode cleared his throat uncomfortably. May wryly thought that he was intimidated by Dr. Lecter. "You sustained stab wounds to your upper left chest, right lung, lower abdominal region, and right thigh. You arrived here unconscious with severe blood loss, an extreme concussion, and a fractured ankle." His eyes flicked to May's foot, hidden beneath the blue blanket. She noticed that his eyes were a muddy green. "You're a fighter, though, Miss Hawk. You'll only have to be here a few more days for monitoring. If there aren't any issues, we'll be able to discharge you."

"Thank you, doctor," Jack said, somewhat dismissive. Dr. Goode gave that fake smile once again before turning on his heel and exiting the room as if he were exiting a stage. 

"He got away," May said hoarsely, wincing at the sound of her own voice. If someone had smoked a pack a day for a thousand years, they'd still have sounded better than she did. 

Jack dropped his head and released her arm from his grip. "Yeah, he got away. The whole house was booby trapped, and we had to focus on keeping you alive."

May's eyes flicked to Dr. Lecter. She didn't want to thank him, didn't really even want him there in the room, but the man had saved her life. Whatever that was worth. "Thank you," she whispered. 

A nod and slightly upturned lips was the only response she got. His gaze was unwavering as ever, though. May turned her head back to Jack. "Where is Alana?"

"I called her a short while ago. She'll be here soon," Dr. Lecter broke his silence. It struck May as a little odd that he would call her closest friend. She knew Alana and Dr. Lecter were friendly, even had a bit of chemistry together, but she didn't think they were _that_ close. Something about that bothered her. Something she wouldn't be exploring just yet.

Instead, May closed her eyes. "Tired," she whispered, feeling Jack stand up from beside her. 

Sleep consumed her before she could check to see if Dr. Lecter was still watching her.

________________

When May woke this time, the pain wasn't there like it had been previously. Someone must have changed her I.V. She felt off, not quite herself. Maybe the pain was better.

"May!" Alana gasped, rushing immediately to her side. Her hands gripped the rail of the bed so hard that her knuckles turned white as her eyes searched May's face desperately. "Hannibal said you woke up, but you were asleep again when I got here. I was so worried," she rushed out, looking as if she'd burst.

If May could have laughed, she would have. Alana was perpetually worried about her. "I'm alright," she told her friend, surprised that her voice still sounded so bad. She hoped that would go away sooner rather than later. "I just need to get out of this bed and into my own."

Alana worried her lip between her teeth, looking away. May's eyes narrowed, but she didn't have the strength to ask. If she waited long enough, Alana would volunteer whatever information she had that made her look like she'd just kicked a puppy.

It took only moments for her to break. "You're not going to your house, May," she said softly. "It's not safe."

She handed May her glass of water, and she took a long sip. "Why are you looking at me like that?" May asked, suspicion obvious in her voice.

With a glance down at her hands, now loosened on the rail, Alana sighed. "They've decided the safest place for you to go is...Hannibal's home," the last part was nearly inaudible, but May was able to catch it.

The thought of staying in Hannibal Lecter's home, living under that unwavering gaze, made May feel deeply uneasy. "Why can't I just stay with you?" She croaked out, hoping to sound pitiful enough that Alana would take mercy on her.

"Hannibal used to be a doctor and a surgeon. I don't have the experience or physical strength to help you, May," Alana whispered, still not making eye contact. "Your wounds are severe. Besides, the Flayer knows that we're friends. Frieddie Lounds didn't write about Hannibal, though. It's the safest option all around."

A snort escaped May's nose, and she coughed. Pain returned with a vengeance, shooting spirals through her chest and arm. Alana looked at her helplessly. "First, he saves my life. Now, he's going to take me into his home and cater to my every medical need? He's no saint, Alana, and the fact that he's acting like one only makes me wary," May said carefully.

"It's true I am no saint, May," came Dr. Lecter's voice from the doorway, "But I am a doctor. I swore an oath. Saving your life means I am responsible for it. I do not plan to shirk my responsibilities." He'd changed from his dark suit to another muted plaid. The colors suited him, though May didn't want to admit that.

"I don't have a choice, do I?" She asked him wryly, and he gave her another barely-there smile before shaking his head.

May sighed, looking away from his hazel eyes, unable to bear them another second. She hoped beyond hope they'd find the Flayer sooner, rather than later.

Something told her that once she entered Dr. Lecter's home, she wouldn't be leaving.


	6. Who are you to wave your finger?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a few days! I'm a full time student and I work full time, plus I have my own dog and fosters. Sometimes writing gets away from me. I hope you all enjoy this chapter! And please don't forget that I love interacting with my readers <3

Five days in the hospital had proven so mind-numbing that if she were capable, May would have jumped for joy when Hannibal and Jack came to get her out.

As a nurse helped May into a wheelchair, she hoped to never see the inside of a hospital room again. The last five days had reminded her far too much of her hospital stay the first time she'd been attacked by the Flayer, when she was just seventeen. It had been a struggle to not relive that harrowing time of her life as she lay in bed, immobilized.

Getting into the chair hurt. Her left arm was in a sling, nearly useless because of the stab wound in her chest. It was hard to catch her breath when exerting even the minimum effort to make herself comfortable.

The whole time, Dr. Lecter stared at her with those analytical eyes. It felt like he was assessing the wounds on her soul rather than her body, and May didn't like that one bit. She avoided looking at him as the nurse wheeled her out of the room. They stopped at the front desk of the ward, Dr. Lecter and Jack speaking to the doctor one last time. May tuned him out, exhausted with medical jargon. She just wanted to go home and sleep in her own bed.

Not that she could do that. With her one functioning arm, May rubbed one of her temples. It was probably too much to hope that the FBI would catch the psychopath any time soon. The thought of spending day in and day out with Hannibal Lecter didn't help May feel safe, but she wasn't being given much of a choice. 

A hand on her shoulder startled her out of her thoughts. She looked up at Jack. "Hannibal is going to take you to his home now, May. He'll make sure you're comfortable, and we'll have agents watching you both twenty four-seven. This guy won't touch you again."

She sighed, ignoring the fact that his hand made her skin itch. Would people ever stop touching her without permission? Touching wasn't something May had ever particularly enjoyed, but it was even worse now. She wanted to crawl into a hole and shut out the world every time someone put their hands on her now. 

"If you just listened to me, Jack, I wouldn't have to stay with Dr. Lecter at all," May said sourly. Jack pursed his lips, taking his hand away, but saying nothing else. He and Dr. Lecter exchanged some words, voices too low for May to make out, but it didn't really matter. 

They didn't go out the front entrance. Instead, Hannibal pushed May's chair, following Jack into the elevator and out some obscure side exit. The doctor's white SUV was waiting, next to a black SUV that May assumed was Jack's government vehicle. 

Dr. Lecter left May and her wheelchair to start that car, and Jack produced her cell phone from his pocket. "We've tapped it, in case he's gotten your number somehow. Alana went to your home with an escort and gathered all your clothes and essentials. They're waiting for you at Dr. Lecter's house." Jack squatted down to look May in the eyes. "I know you don't like him, and I know you're uncomfortable. Dr. Lecter is the best person for this job. I know you didn't listen to anything your doctor said, but you're battered, May," he sighed. "You need someone with surgical experience, and you need to be away from anyone you're publicly associated with."

May scoffed. "We don't need to discuss this, Jack."

Jack nodded, saying nothing before opening the passenger door to the car. Dr. Lecter suddenly reappeared. "I'm going to life you into the car, May," he warned, and she tensed up. He lifted her good arm, placing it around her neck, before carefully scooping her out of the chair and into the seat. May was more than a little surprised that the interaction didn't leave her trembling. Instead, a small part of her admired how easily he had lifted her. She quickly shook that part of her away.

She was acutely aware of the pain coursing through her body, and barely noticed when Dr. Lecter positioned himself in the driver's seat. May turned her head to look at him for a moment. He looked somewhat handsome, in his typical plaid suit and clean-shaven face. Maybe the drugs were affecting her more than she'd realized. If only they actually did something for the pain.

An auxiliary cord appeared in front of May. For a moment she just stared at it, before lifting her eyes to meet his. "I rarely offer to listen to the music choices of others, but my hope is that it will improve your mood. You're rather silent today," Dr. Lecter said. It almost seemed like he was making fun of her, as if she hadn't been kidnapped and stabbed by a psychopathic killer. 

Gingerly, she took the cord from his fingers and plugged it into her phone. The hot air blasted from the vents, warming her hands up as she selected something soft and quiet. It was far from her usual tastes, but her irritability was already high enough without garnering remarks from the good doctor himself.

"Thanks, Dr. Lecter," she said reluctantly as the music began to radiate from the speakers. She leaned her head against the window, staring out as they passed by snow-covered houses. Virginia was at its most beautiful during the winter months.

"You're a guest in my home. I think we've moved past the need for formalities, May," he told her firmly. "Call me Hannibal from now on."

___________

Whatever expectations May had harbored about Hannibal's home were crushed when they arrived.

The outside was beautiful. Large and well kept, it looked like the home of someone with a lot of money. May wondered how much Hannibal earned, being a psychiatrist. It had to be quite a bit to afford a home like this on one income.

Hannibal pulled the car into the garage, turning it off and unbuckling his seatbelt. "I must apologize, May," he said as he gathered his things. "My home is not suitable for wheelchair usage. I'll have to carry you most places until you're strong enough for crutches."

"You'll have to _what?_ " She asked incredulously. "I didn't agree to that!"

A light chuckle escaped him. "There weren't many options, I'm afraid. We'll work through your discomfort with touching together."

May didn't like that. She didn't _want_ to work through her discomfort. She'd much rather people just not touch her at all, ever. There wasn't any point in saying that, though. It didn't take a genius to realize that Dr. Lecter considered himself right all the time, and no effort on anyone's part would persuade him otherwise. 

Inside the house was more modern that she'd expected. Hannibal carried her through it easily, pointing out the different rooms as they passed through them. May couldn't keep track of it all - the house was far too massive for a single man. Televisions that looked practically unused, tasteful furniture, and expensive art were scattered throughout the house in a rather tasteful manner. May almost asked Hannibal if he'd decorated himself, but she didn't want to seem too eager to learn more about him. Better to keep their conversation light, if not nonexistent.

He made his way up the stairs, and she gripped his neck a little tighter as she was jostled about more than she'd expected. May hoped he didn't take notice. He carried her down the hallway, to a room bigger than she'd expected. It was composed of grays, blacks, and blues, like a melancholy day in Seattle. She was a little surprised to see her things already had places in the room - her laptop and makeup on the desk, clothes in the closet, and she caught a glimpse of her toiletries in the attached bathroom.

Hannibal set her gingerly down on the bed, and she winced as she tried to adjust her leg. He turned and set her medicine down on the bedside table, next to an alarm clock and a painting of a stag.

"Thank you," she said, voice hoarse. 

"We'll get you on a schedule with your medications to stay ahead of the pain," he told her, removing his coat and carefully placing it across his forearm. "It's getting late. I'll start on dinner. Take some time to make yourself comfortable; I'll fetch you when it's time."

With a nod and just a flash of a smile, he left, and May just stared at her lap.

___________

Everything about the dining room was far too formal, and May felt undeniably frumpy in her sweatpants and long-sleeved Henley shirt. Her wounds throbbed against their stitches, and she ached for something to take away the bites of pain.

“I thought a simple minestrone for dinner would lend you some extra warmth,” Hannibal said, gently placing the bowl down in front of her. It was artfully done. The reds and oranges of the soup were bright, the leafy greens almost black in comparison. He had also placed a tray of cheese and crackers between them, carefully plated to make an abstract mural of beige, orange, and off-white.

“Thank you,” May said, watching carefully as he took a spoonful of the minestrone into his mouth. Part of her admired his endless poise. Part of her didn’t trust him. “I should warn you now that I’m usually a picky eater. I’m more than happy to procure my own meals,” she peered at him over her own spoonful. “You’ve put yourself out enough on my behalf already.”

Hannibal smiled quickly, though it looked a little more like a wince. “Nonsense.” He set his spoon down and picked up his glass, lightly swirling the wine before taking a sip. “You’re disappointed you couldn’t stay with Alana. It’s interesting, you know,” he paused, taking another sip, “You and Alana have been friends for quite some time. She talks about you endlessly.”

“As she talks about you endlessly,” May countered, not touching the wine. Instead, her eyes returned to the soup, staring at the steam rising from the bowl. “She raves particularly about your dinner parties.”

Another smile only this time, it felt more real. “I invite her to every dinner party I host. I extend that invitation to you, as well, though you’ve never graced us with your presence.”

He was teasing her now. May smile wryly. “I don’t socialize with strangers if I can avoid it.”

“Nor with those who aren’t strangers,” he countered, adjusting his waistcoat. “You and Alana have had a relationship for years, yet I’ve never seen you from anything closer than a distance until this case. It says something rather interesting about you.”

May’s eyes snapped from the soup to Hannibal’s face. “And what is that, exactly?” She asked slowly.

“You and Will share a similar gift, yet the manner in which you approach life is extraordinarily different,” Hannibal said, gaze never wavering from hers. “Will avoids close connections because he’s never had a family, while you avoid close connections because you have.”

The spoon clattered from May’s hand back into the bowl. “I knew it,” she glared. “You only insisted I stay here so you can psychoanalyze me like you do to Will. I have no intention of being your patient, Dr. Lecter,” she nearly snarled, her breath becoming shorter by the second.

With one arm, May pushed herself away from the table, struggling to stand. She had no idea how she’d get to her room on her own, but she didn’t want to stay in the dining room even a moment longer. Hannibal was at her side in an instant, ignoring her weak attempts to push him away.

One hand smoothed the curls that had fallen into May’s face as she tried to catch her breath, and Hannibal was suddenly eye level with her. “I don’t want you to be my patient, May. I want to be your friend. That’s why I offered to care for you,” he said gently.

For a long moment, they stared at each other. May’s heaving chest slowed, and Hannibal carefully lifted her into his arms. “I’ll take you to your room now. It seems dinner is over.”

Her anger abated as he carried her to her room, hands wrapped around her as though May were a carefully crafted China doll. The touch was almost soothing.

May chose not to think about that as she lay in bed, pain wrapping itself around her throat.


	7. You must have been out your head

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is, uh, the most popular fic I've ever written. And the longest. Definitely feeling the pressure now xD This is a looooong chapter for you all!

Nightmares were the inevitable after what May had endured, though they came as a surprise; May hadn't had a nightmare in nearly five years, and the morphine had kept her in a deep enough sleep to avoid them during her hospital stay.

There was no morphine in Hannibal Lecter's home, though. At least none May had been made aware of.

Her fingers gripped the silky sheets, sweat dripping from her forehead. Curls matted themselves to her skin as she let out a small whimper that turned into a half-choked scream. May's head turned from side to side, making more incoherent sounds of distress in the dark, unfamiliar room. 

Hands brushed her arms, and she began thrashing wildly, tangling herself in the sheets. Now half-awake, May was frantic, trying desperately to escape the monster in front of her, silhouette outlined by the tiny streams of moonlight dripping in through the window. 

"May," a voice called, grabbing her legs and attempting to restrain her still-thrashing body. "You're going to hurt yourself, May. Wake up!"

Wake, she did. Confusion settled over her features, sweaty and terrified, yet still unmistakably beautiful. Her body stilled, lungs gasping for air, her vision focusing on the darkly outlined Hannibal leaning over her.

"Han...Hannibal," she whispered, her confusion growing. Why was he here? Her eyes moved around the room, slowly gathering that she was still in his house, not in the landscape of her nightmare. The Flayer was nowhere to be found, only darkness and her caretaker.

The backs of his fingers stroked her cheek, and she was transfixed by his eyes, only barely visible in the darkness. He looked genuinely concerned about her. "You were dreaming," he whispered, still stroking her cheek softly. May was transfixed, sleep and fear still clawing at the edges of her mind, but they started to ebb away as she continued to look into his hazel eyes. "You're safe, May. No one will touch you here," his voice was still a gentle whisper, as if he were talking to a trapped animal.

"You're touching me," she whispered back without thinking. It didn't bother her, didn't repel her, the way it should have. 

Hannibal slowly moved from his position above her to rest on the edge of the bed, his fingers leaving May's cheek. "Gentle touch is an excellent way to calm down someone from a panic attack, real or imagined," Hannibal said, both hands clasping together in his lap. May could tell he was wearing fancy striped pajamas, dark blue and probably softer than anything she'd ever touched.

"I'm so sorry to wake you," her embarrassment was dawning on her, cheeks turning red at the realization that she'd pulled her host out of bed with screams of terror. A wave of gratefulness for the still dark room washed over her. At least Hannibal couldn't see the feelings on her face. "I promise it won't happen again."

"Don't make promises you cannot keep, May," he told her, glancing at the clock on her bedside table. "You cannot help having nightmares, not yet, and they are to be expected of someone in your position. I'll happily leave my bed to console you any time you need. It's what a friend would do," he said. 

With that, he stood, brushing May's hair back from her face to look at her for just another moment. "Now, try to get some rest. We can discuss your nightmares in the morning, if you wish, over breakfast."

His touch lingered for just a moment longer and May's eyes closed once again. He made his way to the doorway, watching her breath become steady once again before clicking the door shut.

______________________

Soft light illuminated the room as May slowly blinked, sitting up on her one good arm. Her body ached tremendously.

A glance at the clock showed it was only a little past 6 o'clock, her usual waking time. Tiredness still bit at the back of her eyes, but she shook it off, determined to keep up her normal routine. Throwing the covers back, May slowly moved her legs off the edge of the bed.

Today, she would stand on her own.

A knock at her door foiled her plans. "Come in," May scowled as Hannibal opened her door.

"I thought you might be an early riser," he said, opening the door further to reveal he was already dressed and ready for the day. "I'll help you get dressed, then we can have breakfast."

May balked. "I don't need help getting dressed, Hannibal," she said.

Hannibal was already at the armoire, grabbing a pair of soft leggings and a tunic. "You may not need help with the act of dressing, but you certainly shouldn't be walking around more than necessary. I'll gather your items, and then I'll carry you down to the dining room when you've finished," told her, amusement tinging his voice.

Humiliation coursed through May as he handed her the clothes, seeing a pair of underwear and a bralette tucked safely between the leggings and tunic. She said nothing, instead opting to stare angrily at her lap until Hannibal temporarily left the room.

In truth, May knew she probably couldn't dress herself, much less flit about the room grabbing her own clothes. Knowing a grown man was choosing her undergarments, though, was a deep blow to her independence. It took everything in her not to throw a temper tantrum at the unfairness of it all. The fact that Hannibal found it amusing only made matters worse.

It took her nearly fifteen minutes to change, and she avoided looking at the ugly, stitched wounds that seemed to litter her body. They were ragged and angry, impossible not to notice. They also hurt, feeling as if they'd split while she tried her hardest to pull the clothes over them comfortably. There was no doubt in her mind that Hannibal, standing just outside, could hear every grunt of pain and frustrated scream into her pillow.

May took a deep breath, composing herself. Instead of inviting Hannibal back in, she steadied herself against the bedside table. A good face wash and teeth brushing would improve her mood immensely, freshen her up for the day.

Putting weight on her injured leg was immensely painful, but it didn't stop her. May wasn't easily dissuaded, even when her vision swam with every step. It took more effort to keep her breaths steady and calm than she'd expected, and just walking the few steps across the dark gray carpet had spent all her energy for the day. May looked up from the ground, gripping the marble countertop, to meet her own eyes. She hadn't looked in a mirror in over a week, and the person staring back at her was unrecognizable. Too pale, too thin, with wide honey-colored eyes. The forest green sleep shirt covered her wounds, but it didn't conceal the fading bruises on her arms or the needle mark on her throat.

A knock at the door pulled her attention away from the ghostly girl in the mirror. "Just a minute," she called, not sure if her voice carried far enough for Hannibal to hear. Her punctured lung was by far the most aggravating of her injuries.

Hannibal opened the door just as she finished rinsing her mouth, patting her face dry with a soft towel. She looked over at his figure, now in the bathroom doorway, to see him frown. "You shouldn't be walking anywhere," he admonished, taking a step towards her. "Resisting what will heal you is a very blatant form of self-destruction," he said.

"I'm not self-destructing, just keeping a semblance of my independence," May retorted.

"May I?" Hannibal asked, gesturing to her. Fingers gripping the counter again, May looked away and nodded. Hannibal's arms wrapped around her, lifting her into the air and carrying her away from her room and to the kitchen.

Now that May was truly looking, she noticed how beautiful Hannibal's home was. He clearly took great pride in keeping everything orderly and clean. The whole house was tastefully decorated with artwork, and the theme seemed to be grays and shades of blue. It somehow suited him, she decided, though it was very different from what she was used to. While she could appreciate the sleek look of Hannibal's life, she much preferred the messy gothic style that adorned her own house. 

"Your home is beautiful," she told him sincerely, "I don't think I mentioned that yesterday."

"Thank you," Hannibal said, gently setting her down on one of the stools at the kitchen bar. "I decorated it much like my childhood home in Lithuania."

"So that's where the accent comes from," May mused quietly. "I couldn't place it; probably because I've never met anyone from Lithuania before. Is it pretty there?"

The man turned away from her, grabbing two plates and serving some fancy-looking breakfast onto them. "Yes, it is," he said, setting one of the plates down in front of her. "Would you like some coffee?" His abrupt change of the subject didn't go unnoticed by May, but she didn't acknowledge it. 

"Please," she said, looking down at the plate, "Cream and sugar too, if there's any." The food smelled heavenly, but May had no idea what it was. She gently poked at it with her fork.

"Zucchini tartine with warm mustard dressing," he said, gently placing a cup of coffee next to her plate. "A light dish, one that shouldn't upset your stomach," he smiled, picking up his own fork, "Given that you've been subjected to hospital food these past several days."

May closed her eyes as she took a bite, suppressing the sound of satisfaction bubbling up from her throat. "I don't eat much better out of the hospital. Cooking isn't a skill I ever acquired, so my diet is a lot of takeout. Something like this is beyond my imagination," she said, trying her hardest not to shovel the breakfast into her mouth like a starved animal. May could already imagine the look of disappointment she'd get for doing something so impolite.

"You've lost weight you didn't have," Hannibal said. May thought back to the girl in the mirror. "I imagine you'll be here for some time; we shall remedy that."

"How long do you and Jack think I'll be here?" She asked, suspicion tinging her voice.

Hannibal set his fork down, patting at his mouth with a napkin. "Jack and I haven't discussed it. A few weeks, I'd imagine," his tone was so nonchalant, as if he hadn't invited an improper girl being hunted by a psychopath to live in his home. It unsettled May, more so than Hannibal usually did. "Now, tell me about your nightmare," he said. 

She met his eyes, hoping he'd see only irritation and not the fear that flashed through her as she thought about her dreams. "It was nothing special," she told him. "Just me, tied up back in that dingy basement. I escape, and he guts me alive."

"The Flayer," Hannibal practically announces, sitting back a little. His fingers intertwine on the table, eyes eagerly searching May's face for a reaction.

Disgust took control of May's facial muscles. "I wish they wouldn't call him that. He's sickly creative, but he isn't some science fiction villain." May took the opportunity to sip the coffee; it was delicious, but not quite sweet enough. "He's a man with an obsession, and he needs to be stopped."

"Will it be you that stops him?"

The question stilled her. "If you're asking if I'll kill him, the answer is 'it depends,'" she said carefully.

Hannibal seemed to mull over that for a moment. "And what does it depend upon?"

May looked out the window behind Hannibal. His front yard was covered in the early morning snow, completely undisturbed. "If he catches me again and I have the option to try and escape or preemptively kill him, I'll kill him," she says with a finality she hadn't expected from herself. "I'll kill him, and I don't think I'll feel bad about it. I won't lose sleep over it."

"Do you not feel empathy for him?" Hannibal asked. The eagerness was on the edge of his tongue. "Do you not wish for him to be rehabilitated?"

A long pause filled the room. "I feel empathy for him," May finally said. "I also feel empathy for the people he's killed. Which one do you think weighs more?"

Hannibal didn't answer. He picked up her empty plate, smiling at how she'd cleaned it, and turned to wash up.

Which one _did_ weigh more? In truth, May didn't know the answer.


	8. Eye hole deep in muddy water

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! It's been a busy week. Hopefully you all like this.

Every single moment of May's existence was a struggle. Her nights were filled with terrifying dreams, Hannibal waking her from them gently each time. Her days were filled with pain and frustration, unable to do even the most simple tasks on her own.

It had been a week of torture for May. Hannibal had returned to work, once again seeing patients in his office downstairs the day before. Being alone was a relief to May. She was accustomed to spending most of her time alone before coming here, and she felt suffocated and useless by Hannibal's constant worrying. She sighed, thinking about how worried Hannibal was. His poker face was excellent, but she caught that look of concern in his eye more than once. It wasn't pity, and it made her feel a little better to know the man did have some sort of human emotion. He was so poised at all times that May hadn't been entirely sure he was even a man at all before she'd gotten herself kidnapped and butchered.

There had been no news from Jack about the killer. May figured that was a good thing - no news meant they hadn't found him, but it also meant he hadn't killed anyone else. It was strange to think that this had become her life; unable to brush her own hair and happy to hear nothing from the FBI.

A light knock at the door had May looking up from her laptop. She was sitting comfortably on the bed, surrounded by endless pillows and soft blankets. Hannibal had truly done an excellent job ensuring her sleeping area was exceptional. In the doorway stood Will, smiling softly. His hand swept through his brown curls, sheepishly clearing his throat. 

"Will!" May exclaimed, happy to see him. "What are you doing here? I haven't seen you in at least a month." She and Will had always gotten along well, teaching similar subjects and often bouncing ideas off one another. Once Jack had roped Will into field work, though...May didn't see him much. He looked tired, more unstable than he had been when he'd simply been a professor. 

He served as an excellent reminder for why May never wanted to be involved in catching killers.

"Sorry I haven't visited," Will said quietly, still fiddling with his hair. He leaned against the doorway, hesitant to come inside the room. His eyes scanned over May's clothes and wild hair. Getting dressed in anything other than lounge clothing was far too difficult a task to do on her own, and May wasn't inclined to ask Hannibal for help. Instead, she chose to wear leggings and a t-shirt most days.

"It's alright, Will, I know you're a busy guy. What are you doing here?" It dawned on May that Will being in Hannibal's home was odd. She patted an empty spot on the bed, inviting her friend in from the doorway.

"Dr. Lecter is my psychiatrist," Will said, stepping into the room and sitting on the edge of her bed. She could smell his aftershave from here; the man clearly used Old Spice. May stifled a small giggle at his poor choice in products. "Jack and Dr. Bloom both highly recommended him."

May snorted. "He may as well have hung the moon as far as those two are concerned," she told him with a smile. "Speaking of Alana, have you seen her lately? She's gorgeous as ever," May said suggestively. Will had been crushing on her friend for as long as she'd known him. He was soft and sensitive, and there was no denying that he was cute. Alana could certainly do worse than Will Graham.

He looked down at his hands, smiling a little wider. "Yeah, just a couple days ago. That's how I knew you were here; she told me. Though it is a bit odd," Will said thoughtfully. "Dr. Lecter is so incredibly private, I'd like to know why he decided to take a stranger into his home."

It was something that had plagued May's own thoughts for the past week. Why had Hannibal truly offered to help her? There was no benefit for him. She was cranky, slow, and needed almost constant assistance. "He's been very generous," May said carefully. "Don't think I didn't notice you deflecting from the subject of Alana, though. If you don't hop on that train soon, it'll depart your station permanently."

That made Will throw his head back and laugh, and he looked happier than he had in months. 

"It's been some time since you've truly laughed, Will," came Hannibal's voice from the doorway. Will was still grinning as he turned to his psychiatrist, and May couldn't help her own small smile from spreading. 

"May is an entertaining companion, to say the least," Will told him. May blushed slightly, looking down at the blanket that covered her legs. 

A smile played at the corner of Hannibal's lips. "Yes, her company has been most stimulating," he said, surprising May. She'd been a horrible house guest, and hadn't expected Hannibal to say something like that.

"Please, Hannibal, I've been awful. I haven't been coping with all this as well as I should," she didn't look at either of the men, instead choosing to pick at her blanket now. It was embarrassing to admit, but May wasn't a liar.

"Coping mechanisms are relative, May. You've actually been doing well, in my professional opinion," Hannibal said, and May looked up at him. "Whatever that is worth." That earned him a small smile from the woman.

Silence fell over the trio for a moment, Will looking between his two friends with a bit of confusion. He stood, gently patting May's knee. "I'm afraid I have to go," he said with a smile. "I'll visit again next week, May. Please let me know if you need anything."

"Bring Winston next time," May called as Will disappeared into the hallway. Winston was Will's newest furry friend, and May's favorite of his dogs. She missed visiting and playing with his pack of mutts. She missed doing things in general.

While May stared wistfully after Will, Hannibal studied her face. He trusted his patient to see himself out with no trouble, instead taking the time to look at the disheveled woman in his guest bed. He cleared his throat. "I have one more patient for today, and then I'll start on dinner. Would you care to join me while I cook?"

May nodded enthusiastically, thinking about escaping the room she spent so much time in. "Please, Hannibal, I'd appreciate that."

__________________

"You encourage Will to pursue Alana," Hannibal stated. May couldn't tell if his tone was approving or not.

"They'd make a good match," she said absently, fork stabbing one of the well seasoned potatoes on her plate.

Hannibal chewed his own bite slowly before taking a sip of wine. "Do you often focus on the love life of your friends rather than your own?"

The question caught May off guard. "I don't have a love life," she said awkwardly. "I never have. It doesn't seem like you do either, so maybe you're not in the right position to judge." May could barely make friends; dating had always been far too intimidating for her, so she avoided it. "I've encourage Alana to pursue you on multiple occasions, though."

Hannibal raised a brow at that comment. "Interesting. Alana is a most remarkable woman."

"That she is," May laughed. "The most remarkable person I know, quite frankly. I think you're the reason she doesn't really consider Will. She never shuts up about you, hasn't for years." May sipped her water. "Maybe you'll consider her something other than a colleague one day."

His unsettling gaze was also unwavering, though it didn't bother May as much as it had before. "My sights are on someone far less attainable, I'm afraid," he said after a moment, focus returning to his dinner.

She snorted rudely, sheepishly smiling at her host after a quick recovery. "Alana isn't someone I'd really consider attainable when it comes to men. She has high standards. You just happen to meet them." Something about the conversation was making her uneasy. Suddenly, May wanted to take back everything she was saying.

"I much prefer a challenge. Besides, this woman is far more interesting and beautiful than any I've met before." May wondered what kind of woman would capture Hannibal's attention like that. She figured this woman must be someone ethereal and inhuman.

The ringing of May's phone was unexpected.

Hannibal looked curious as she glanced at the screen. People rarely called her, especially from restricted numbers. Without a second thought, she answered the call.

"Hello?"

Silence met her question. May almost hung up, but the sound of movement on the other end made her pause for a moment longer.

"I'm sorry we didn't get to finish our talk," came a gravelly voice, freezing her movements. "You weren't supposed to get hurt, but I panicked."

May didn't notice Hannibal stand and make his way to her, gently plucking the phone from her hands and putting it on speaker. She couldn't move. "You stabbed me four times," she whispered. "It wasn't enough to murder my family? To kidnap me?" Anger was bubbling to the surface, pushing past her frozen veins.

"I said I was sorry," the man said, sounding almost desperate. "And now I can't find you. You've run away from me again," his voice sounded anguished now. 

"You fucking psycho," she spat. Hannibal's hand gripped her upper arm, firm but reassuring. 

"I have a gift for you," the man said, abruptly ending the call. May ripped her arm from Hannibal's grip, standing unsteadily from her chair. She pushed away from the table, trying to hobble away from what had just happened. Hannibal followed silently, ensuring she didn't fall. 

"I- I need to go," she gasped, the anger dissipating and panic gripping her throat. Her phone went off several times. May paused, opening the messages being sent from another unknown number.

Regret instantly chilled her bones. 

Dozens of photos filled her screen. Photos that didn't compare to the images in her mind, but were terrifying all the same.

Images of her family, slaughtered. Of May herself, bound and bleeding, eyes filled with a hatred she barely remembered anymore.

The phone slipped from her hand, and May felt her knees give out.

Distantly, she felt strong arms grab her and she went down, their grip fierce. The panic was too much. All she could remember was the fear, the hatred, consuming her now like it had then. 

A voice, gentle and sure, was pushing through the fog. Slowly, May became aware of the position she was in. She was on the carpeted floor, arms wrapped around herself, joined by Hannibal's. He was behind her, holding her body closely to his chest, breath on her ear.

"No one will touch you here, little bird," he was saying, soothing her as she struggled to breath. Gasps continued to escape her, desperate and short. Hannibal continued to talk to her as she collapsed backwards, her weight falling against his chest and her thoughts disappearing entirely.


	9. You practically raised the dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the kudos and truly lovely comments you've left me! I had a run-in with the dreaded COVID, and it landed me in the hospital for quite some time. Now, I'm back home on bed rest, hoping to catch up on chapters and respond to all you lovely readers <3

Warmth was the first thing May's mind registered as she once again became aware of her own self. Soft lips whispered gently into her ear, though she couldn't gather her mind enough to understand the words just yet. She tried to shift her weight, a whimper escaping her lips and she felt her wounds protest the use of her own muscles. The sound made her feel weak.

Her eyes opened, and she became acutely aware of the arms that were wrapped around her. Soft light washed the room, and the whispers in her hear suddenly became words. "Hannibal," she interrupted, eyes fixating on her shirt, "I'm bleeding."

One of his hands continued to stroke her face. "I can call Jack, have him bring a doctor," he said, pausing as May tensed, hissing at the pain, "Or I could stitch you back up myself. Your choice, May."

She appreciated the choice, one that no one else would have offered. The thought of a stranger coming just now no poke and prod and _touch_ sent a wave of nausea through her body. "Please don't call Jack, Hannibal," she asked softly, not quite trusting her voice.

"I'll have to call him soon, May. I can take care of this for you first, though," he said, slowly unravelling himself from around her. She shivered, and he was gone from the room. Wordlessly, she stared at the pooling blood as it began to spread across her shirt. She hoped it didn't get onto his carpet. Stains had no place in a home like this.

A hand covered hers, startling her. May looked up to find Hannibal crouching in front of her, face blank as usual. "I'm going to lift you onto the table, May. It might hurt, but I'll be fast. You just have to be brave," he said, large hands gripping as he swung her up onto the dining room table in a blur. If it hurt, she didn't notice. Everything felt too fuzzy.

May started into Hannibal's eyes while he stood before her, unmoving. What could she say? She'd just had a panic attack in his arms, and probably bled all over his floor. The insanity of the situation wasn't beyond her, addled as her brain was. It was infuriating that she couldn't find a shred of anything other than concern in his eyes; no anger, no exasperation, no judgement. 

"I'm going to have to remove your shirt to assess the damage," Hannibal didn't break eye contact, but May did. Her cheeks were surely burning red. No one had seen her any way other than fully clothed; she didn't even own a swimsuit. Embarrassment seeped through her pores at the thought of Hannibal seeing her bra, of all people.

But what choice did she have? 

Looking at the floor, May nodded once, hoping beyond reason that he couldn't sense her discomfort and knowing her absolutely could. Knowing Hannibal, he could probably even tell why she was so embarrassed.

"I'll have to cut it," he continued, producing a pair of scissors from the bag he must have placed on the table before lifting her up. "Lifting your arm will only cause further damage, and you're bleeding rather profusely." The sound of slicing fabric filled the room. May hoped it was enough to drown out the sound of her own heart beating erratically.

"I'm so sorry, Hannibal," May said. 

He paused, leaning down to capture her eyes. "Whatever for?"

"I'm getting blood all over your dining room."

Hannibal's laugh was startling. It was softer, more elegant than she would have imagined. May felt the beginning of a smile lifting the corners of her mouth. "While I do generally prefer blood to be restricted to the kitchen area, it doesn't offend me elsewhere," he told her, and the sincerity of his words drowned out the oddity of them. The interaction had distracted May enough that she hadn't realized Hannibal was finished cutting through her shirt.

His fingers brushed against her now bared chest, goosebumps forming in their wake. Hannibal said nothing about them, but May knew he'd noticed and was more than grateful for his good manners. "I don't have anything to dull the pain," he said, regret washing over his normally unmoving features. This was the most emotion May had ever seen him express, and it masked the flash of something else in his eyes. It wasn't something she could easily place. Hunger? She quickly shoved that thought into a drawer in her mind, locking it up tight. 

"It's alright," she said, teeth worrying her lip. "Just go as fast as you can, please. I'd rather it hurt than have a stranger so close to me just now." This was an uncharacteristically large amount of vulnerability for May, and she hoped Hannibal would appreciate it as is and didn't insist on analyzing it tomorrow. Her hands clasped each other, nails digging into palms with ferocity. May was more exposed than she'd ever been, and she felt raw.

Relief washed over her when Hannibal simply nodded, sliding gloves onto his hands before starting to restitch her chest wound. May closed her eyes, taking comfort as the sharp pain of the needle became duller with each stitch.

________________________

The rest of the evening passed in a blur.

May didn't know how long she had sat on the floor, encased in Hannibal's arms. She was unsettled by the fact that his body touching her own didn't set off her alarm bells. It was unnerving, but not quite at the forefront of her mind for the moment. Even now, as she sat on the couch beside him, his thumb mindlessly grazing over the top her hand and fingers clasping her own, she could barely find the energy to think of it. Exhaustion had settled into her bones, and every inch of her ached as badly as that first day she awakened in the hospital.

"And he didn't say anything else?" Jack's voice pulled her from her stupor momentarily, just enough for her to register Hannibal's curd nod. The agent was seated on the edge of the char across from them, and May was mentally present enough to feel his eyes settling on her and Hannibal's entwined hands. She wondered what he'd think if he knew Hannibal had sewn her back up just a short while earlier. She'd asked Hannibal to keep that detail out, instead opting to tell Jack she'd had a prolonged panic attack that prevented Hannibal from calling in the FBI earlier.

Another agent was still going through her phone, no doubt analyzing the photos she'd been sent. They were scorched into the backs of her eyelids, and would no doubt haunt her when it was time to sleep. A light squeeze drew her attention away from those darker thoughts, and May met Hannibal's gaze for what must have been the tenth time in the last hour. She wasn't used to so much eye contact, and was especially startled by his ability to make her feel so vulnerable. The fact that he'd seen her shirtless, though...that wasn't something she was quite ready to face. May could only hope that Hannibal would leave well enough alone for the time being.

"I'm tired, Jack," she said abruptly. "It's been a long night. Why don't you all just take my phone and finally let me get some rest?" If she could, May would have walked out of the room with that hanging in the air. Her current state, though, only allowed her to straighten her back and stare Jack down as a million other questions flashed across her face. "I can answer more questions later," she said firmly, leaving no room for argument.

Jack cleared his throat, standing. Hannibal stood as well, though his hand didn't release May's. Something about that was comforting. "We'll be leaving your phone here, in case he tries to contact you again," Jack said, taking the device from the other agent and holding it out. May's stomach turned.

Hannibal gently plucked the phone from Jack's outstretched hand, sliding it into his pocket. "May doesn't need to think about that just now, Agent Crawford. I'll worry about her cell phone for the time being." Jack's gaze flickered between the two of them for a moment, body remaining still.

"I'll see myself out, then," he said suddenly, turning and exiting the room. May knew he'd have questions he had no business asking, but he'd be sure to ask them anyways. She had questions too, but she wouldn't be so eager to make them known.

She'd have to figure out what game Hannibal was playing on her own.


End file.
